Puerto Rico, still Preciosa.

Puerto Rico, still Preciosa.

“…Y así le grito al villano yo sería borincano aunque naciera en la luna ” -Juan Antonio Corretjer

(“and so I shout to the villain: I would still be Puerto Rican if I was born on the moon”)

Omar Z Robles

OZRG1264 Carla Sofía Curet

“Preciosa te llaman lo bardos que cantan tu historia, no importa el tirano te trate con negra maldad…” – Rafael Hernández

I just made it back from visiting my home country of Puerto Rico. It is the first time I get to visit since hurricane María swept through, almost exactly 5 months after. It was an incredibly emotional and difficult trip. I found myself fighting the tears more times than I can recall. Five months after the hurricane and my island, my people, my family still carry open wounds from that horrendous day.

During my visit I gathered so many terrifying stories from my friends and relatives about their experiences during and after the hurricane. They told me about how they stayed up all night holding doors and windows for hours as the wind was about to burst into their homes. About how the extreme heat wave…

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Hidden Falls

Hidden Falls

I think I need to stop by Hidden Falls today, to visit the cathedral poplars and their murmuring by the river. June mornings, where you listen to sprinkling music of poplar leaves and become young again, shoulders loosening on each breath of the moist loamy sand-filled sun air. Armskin smelling like summers spent dirt-streaked and skinned kneed. Let’s forget that step toward the grey, for a moment, and conjure birdsong moving over skin. Down the sand let’s walk to the clearing by the river, when all the body was legs and belly and breath, warm and humming with the light of a June summer morning.

lupines